We'll Always Be Freaks
by nomadicharmony
Summary: Ten years have passed since her father's death, but Jane Fitts is flourishing, and her small nuclear family is finally at peace.


Notes: Do you ever just feel the need to write fic about a movie? Even though the story is complete on its own? Just because there's only one other fic for it in the archive and you feel like you have to write one just because _you can?_

That's me right now. ❤️ Enjoy!

 _You total slut. You've got a crush on him. You're defending him. You love him. You wanna have, like, ten thousand of his babies._

That was something like eleven years ago now, wasn't it? How time had flown.

"Does that make you one in ten thousand, little dude?" she asked her round stomach, stroking it gently.

"What?" Ricky asked from where he sat.

"Nothing. Talking to Skylar," she answered.

He smiled at that, and when she walked past him to grab her book off the coffee table, he caught her and pulled her into his lap to kiss her tummy.

"Hi, Skylar," he said to her softly ballooned form. "Dad has to go to work in a minute, go make a music video. I love you, okay?"

He pulled Jane's face down to give her a kiss, and she laughed. "Stop being so sentimental, you're grossing me out."

"It's gonna be a long shoot today; I want to gross you out as much as I can before I go." He smooched her cheek three more times, and there was no suppressing the smile that spread across her face.

"Who are you filming today?"

"That obnoxious new pop star. Esther Bones. She's going to have twenty back-up dancers, God knows how many extras...she and her manager are opinionated to say the least."

"You know, I'd like for you to be able to come home before the baby is born," she teased, brushing the top part of his thick brow down-his afternoon nap had caused it to stick at a strange angle.

"I hope I will. We've got a week set aside for the shoot, so hopefully they won't want too much from us on the first day." He got up, slung his bag across his shoulder, and kissed her one last time, his big hands cradling her round face. "When Mom wakes up, tell her I might be out late, I'll call her at lunch. Write a lot, okay? I want something good to read when I come home, and I'm sure your agent does, too. "

"If you come home," she teased.

He shot a face at her as he shut the door behind him and she smiled to herself, or to the baby, pulling her cardigan closed. She deliberated for a moment on whether to stay here and write or treat herself to some tea at the cute quiet coffeeshop she'd found a few blocks away.

She told herself to go to the bedroom and grab her laptop, start trying to decide what to do with the rest of the day, but she found herself sitting on the couch, staring into space, remembering.

That happened often these days.

She and Ricky had gotten the hell out of dodge that night, only going back to his house to collect his camera, some clothes, and the most important of his tapes. Barbara had urged him to take her old car, and Ricky had tried to resist her.

" _No, Mom. It's your car. I'll buy us one when we get there."_

" _Honey, take it. I'm too anxious to drive it, and I don't want you two waiting at the bus stop in this rain."_

Jane had only met Barbara once or twice at that point in her life, but it was still more words at once than she had ever heard her say.

There had been tears threatening to escape his eyes as he kissed his mom's cheek one last time.

" _I love you, Mom. I'll call when I can, okay?"_

" _I love you too, son."_

She had looked at Jane, smiled warmly, and said, _"I know you'll be good to him,"_ before helping them pack the car, making them snack bags, and standing in the garage to watch them drive off.

After getting settled in a nice enough two-bedroom apartment, they started calling her every week. Ricky would talk first, and for a longer amount of time, but Jane would ask to talk when he was done, and she would stay on the phone for about twenty minutes. Barbara would ask about how her job at a cute local coffeeshop was going, and Jane would just kind of tell her about all the strange customers she had seen throughout the week.

It was Barbara who had said one day, after they had been gone a couple months, _"You're so good at telling stories, Jane. Have you ever thought about writing books?"_

She honestly had, but it seemed so unlikely that she'd never considered it a possibility. She'd finished a novel the summer between middle and high school in her journals, and brought it with her on a whim, but she hadn't done so much as edit it since then. After getting off the phone with her, Jane had told Ricky, and he had given her _that_ smile, the one that meant wheels were turning in his mind.

" _You should try it."_

" _Are you crazy?"_

" _Maybe. But we're in New York, Jane. Why can't we at least try?"_

" _We?"_

" _I'll try and start shooting movies, and you'll try writing, and if we succeed, we succeed. If not, I still make enough money off pot to support us, and we can say we tried."_

She had to admit, Ricky had a point. He bought her a computer, and when she wasn't working, she typed up all 200 pages of her handwritten novel, proofing as she went, often on the phone with Barbara as she wrote, reading her passages she wasn't sure about and getting her feedback.

One day, she called her "Mom" by mistake, but Barbara didn't say anything about it. Jane figured she understood.

Speaking of her mother, it was her new mom who told her how Carolyn Burnham made an ass of herself over Buddy Kane after her dad's death, publicly begging him to take her back and getting utterly snubbed. It was her new mom who told her, hesitantly, that Carolyn had shot herself, just six months after the death of her husband, and who had done her best to soothe her as she sobbed.

It was her new mom who called, crying, a year after the move, to say that Ricky's father had been arrested for the murder of Lester Burnham. And it was Jane who turned to Ricky and insisted that she move in with them. Immediately, Ricky sent her a money order to pay for a plane ticket- his career as a videographer had already taken off by this point, leaving them very financially comfortable. (He hadn't stopped selling pot yet because he was stubborn, and had told her that he wouldn't stop dealing until Jane submitted her manuscript to a publisher.)

They moved her into the guest room, got her a subway pass and they showed her around the city- anxiety made long trips hard, but they were close enough to Central Park for her to be able to enjoy walks there.

When Jane finally submitted a draft of her book, it was almost instantly accepted. Ricky gave up selling pot, as Jane Fitts became a best-selling author. Her fear was becoming a one-hit wonder, but her next two books made the list as well.

Ricky gave up dealing forever- but not smoking, and who could blame him? Being a successful independent filmmaker and music video director was at times a very stressful job.

Mom became healthier, happier, and with the money that the younger Fitts were making, they were able to get her appointments with one of the most elite counselors in the city. She still had her low days, but Jane was proud to see how much happier she was now.

There were a couple of hard days for the family, such as the day that Colonel Fitts killed himself in prison, and the day, almost a year later, Jane read online that the model, Angela Hayes, had been caught in a sex scandal with a California politician and committed suicide out of shame. But other than that, the past ten years had been charmed, and now, Mom would get to be a grandma, Ricky a father, and Jane a mom. She worried she'd be a bad parent, but she knew that if she let the beauty in the world guide her, everything would be fine.

She was too tired to write that day. She was six months pregnant, for God's sake. Her agent could deal.

She went back to Barbara's room and knocked gently. "Mom? You awake?"

"Come in," she mumbled in a bleary voice.

Jane opened the door quietly, and Barbara was sitting on the bed in her nightgown, rubbing her eyes to try and wake herself up.

"Hi, Mom. I'm writer's blocked this morning, I was thinking you and I could go and get some coffee and take a walk at the park today. You want to?"

She smiled, and Jane could see the excitement in her face. These small outings were her favorite things. "That sounds great, honey."

"Okay. I'll go get my jacket and give you some time to get dressed." Jane closed the door gently, settled into a large, warm coat, and waited a few minutes until Barbara came out in her winter clothes. She wasn't used to the New York cold, and age had made her thinner, so she was fully decked out in a large sweater, a two-button coat, thick sweatpants, two scarves and a knit hat with earflaps over her braided hair. She looked so cute, so ready for whatever the world outside held.

They left the apartment, arms linked and bracing themselves for the cold, ready for the comforting warmth of coffee at their favorite little place across from the Park.

The plastic bag blowing in the light wind on their street as they began to walk must have been a good omen.


End file.
